


Nemesis

by Escalus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anger, Blood and Gore, Dark Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Episode AU: s05e10 Status Asthmaticus, Gen, Near Death Experiences, Seduction to the Dark Side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 04:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16078037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escalus/pseuds/Escalus
Summary: The cliché was that your life flashed before you when you died.   Obviously, that wasn’t true, because that would mean that Scott's life had been a series of practice runs toward death in preparation for the main event.  Well, at least it was over now.Someone’s foot nudged him and that motion caused pain to shoot through him again.   He opened his eyes, but it was hard to see now.  Everything was so bright.   That someone was standing over him, looking down at him.“Surprise, bitch!” Matt Daehler sneered at him.  “I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.”





	Nemesis

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the afterlife stories written about _Status Asthmaticus_ have him meeting up with Allison. Scott's life has been horrible; why would Scott's death be any different? Please bear in mind the tags.

As he felt the claws slide out of his chest, Scott realized something remarkable: having your chest ripped open was definitely the most painful way to die. 

Scott let his eyes close at the same moment he assumed his heart ceased to beat. It was a relief, really; the hole that Theo had made burned with pain, and every time he took a breath that pain ran down his nerves and through his entire body. It would definitely more comforatable if he just stopped trying to breathe.

For some stupid reason, as Theo dropped him to the ground like a useless piece of trash, he kept thinking about the many ways he had almost been killed before, and he tried to rank them appropriately. He had thought nothing could have been worse than suffocating on wolf’s bane smoke, which had easily beaten out being burnt alive, being shot with a poisoned bullet, or being electrocuted. The best way to go was still definitely drowning, but he suspected that could have been due to whatever his boss had put in the water for the ritual. It had been far too gentle.

The cliché had always been that your life flashed before your eyes when you died. Obviously, that wasn’t true, because that would mean that Scott's life had been nothing more than a series of practice runs in preparation for the main event. Well, at least it was over now.

Or maybe not. Someone’s foot nudged his side and that motion caused the pain to roar through his body once more. He opened his eyes, but it was hard to see. Everything was so bright, and then only thing he could make out was that there someone standing over him. Scott squinted, and the face looking down at him slowly came into focus.

“Surprise, bitch!” Matt Daehler sneered at him. “I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.”

Scott’s chest still hurt. His hands were sticky with his own blood. His eyesight remained blurry and unfocused, and the lights stung them something fierce. “Where … where am I?”

“Still not a genius, I guess.”

Scott couldn't summon enough breath to argue, so he lay where he was, taking a few seconds to look around. He did recognize this place after all: The White Room. The hard surface digging into his back wasn't the library stairs; instead, he was lying on the stump of the Nemeton with its unforgiving, uneven surface.

“They say every demon gets its pound of flesh, and while it's not a demon, it has its own will. You were sacrificed to it, so it’s a part of you and you’re a part of it. Did you really think it was going to let you go so easily?”

“Is that what you are?” Scott was so tired. He hadn’t imagined that death would require him to listen to one more psycho's lecture. “A demon?”

“Maybe. Here, stand up, unless you like me talking down to you.” Matt extended a hand to him. “I’m either a helpful demon or a wrathful deity. Or maybe I’m a ghost. Ooo-O-ooo-Ooo!”

Scott grabbed the hand and Matt pulled him up easily. Scott wrapped his free arm around his middle. He was afraid something was going to fall out.

“I guess I would meet the qualifications for becoming a ghost. I did die in a really shitty way with a _lot_ of unresolved issues. But, in reality, I'm probably what your dying brain has latched onto in its last few minutes. So I'm really random electrical impulses tormenting you while this stump...” Matt kicked the Nemeton. “While this stump holds you in Bardo.” 

“Why would I ever think of you?”

“Because, in the end, we’re the same. After all, we both knew what dying would feel like before the final curtain fell. After all, we both were abandoned.” Matt’s voice changed, taking on the echo-y unreality of a degraded memory. “ _I yelled that I can’t swim, but nobody listens. I go under and I swallow water, and no one cares._ ” His face turned paler, slightly bloated. “ _I’m dying, and they’re laughing._ ”

Pain shot through Scott, starting at his stomach but gathering in his chest, surrounding his heart. “They’re … not laughing at me.”

“No,” Matt shook his head in false camaraderie. “For you, it’s something worse. Those fuckers didn’t even realize I was drowning. Your ‘friends,' and I use the term loosely …” He actually used air quotes. “They know what’s going on; they know how much danger you're in. They’re just too busy dealing with more important things.”

Across the room, there was a snap which sounded like a power switch being snapped off. At the very edges of the White Room, a bank of lights went out. For the first time, there was darkness here. 

“What’s happening?”

“I know you aren’t the sharpest tool, Scott, but do try to keep up. You’re dying. Even this _thing_ can’t hold that off forever. This whole tableaux is a blessing, honestly. At least you can have someone with you, even someone who hates your guts, as the darkness comes for you. It sure beats dying alone in a high-school library. So tacky.” 

“I’m not alone.” But he was alone. “Mason …”

“Mason didn’t come to the library for you. He came to clean up another one of Liam’s messes, ‘cause that’s what he does. If Liam hadn’t been there, Mason would have never gone anywhere near the place. He’s probably gone home by now, scribbling furiously in his notebook the many excuses he’s going to make for that psycho. He's practical like that. How would he be able to conceal the truth that his vicious little friend had helped murder you if the police caught him with your corpse?” 

Scott was rocked by more agony. He wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t actually sure he was breathing. Why would he be feeling anything?

“Of course, Liam will get away with it, just like Gerard got away with killing me.”

“It wasn’t Liam. It was the Super Moon.”

“Jeez, you’re hopeless. The Super Moon didn't beat you around the reference section for ten minutes. When you tried to kill Stiles in the locker room long ago, did you even recognize it was him? When you tracked down Allison and Jackson, did you take a moment explain to them exactly how much you wanted to tear them apart? Liam ran across town to get to you, and he must have waited patiently while Theo opened the mountain ash circle so he could get inside. He wasn’t out of control. He knew what he was going to do, and he wanted to do it, Super Moon or no Super Moon. He was going to steal your power for a girlfriend who hated him two weeks ago.”

“Allison –“

This enraged Matt. “Don’t! Compare! This! To! Allison!” He was shouting. He actually gripped Scott by the shoulders and shook him. Scott gasped and tears came to his eyes. “Every time you lost control, you stopped before you hurt anyone. All it took was your reflection in a window, or being sprayed with a fire extinguisher by Stiles, or being thrown to the ground by Derek, and you were back to normal. The fight with Liam took twenty minutes. Admit it, you boob: he knew what he was doing, and he wanted to do it.”

Another bank of lights went out somewhere behind Matt's head. “Why are you doing this?” 

“You tell me.”

“Is this revenge?”

“It’d fit my profile, wouldn’t it? It is entirely possible that I’m here to make your last seconds feel as terrible as possible.”

Scott coughed and bent over. If this was a hallucination, why was he in so much pain?

“It’s a dirty job, Scott, but somebody has to do it. And Stiles, well, he isn’t available, is he?”

“Leave him out of this.” Scott actually tried to snarl. 

“Adorable. You really are such an enormous wussy. Every single thing we’re gonna talk about. Every single thing I’m gonna hurt you with. They all come back to him. And even when you have nothing left to lose, you can’t admit to someone you think isn’t even real how much that whiny, selfish, parasite has done to you.”

Scott lunged at Matt. It’s hard fighting when your lungs are trying to slip out a hole in your chest. But he had to get Matt – or whatever was wearing Matt’s face – to shut up. He didn’t want to listen to this anymore. He just wanted to die. 

But Matt was stronger – far stronger than he ought to have been. In a flash, he had Scott on the ground again, putting a foot on his chest and crushing the life out of his lungs. The move resonated with memory; Derek had done it to him, and Matt had done it to Stiles to force Scott to listen. History repeating itself.

“How else am I gonna twist the knife? Who hurts you more than he does? Malia’s an ungrateful tramp, but what did you expect? Where is she now, by the way? We know Kira’s out of the picture, thanks to your incompetence. Lydia’s probably been killed by now, also thanks to you. Yet, none of them are enough to reduce you to this. You’re such a sexist pig, Scott; none of them make you vulnerable like he does.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Ah, you’d think that, but he’s not. I'll admit, you’re absolutely _his_ best friend, as in, Man’s Best Friend. You’re his pet. His cocker spaniel. Oh, wait, with the alpha upgrade, you’re more like his German shepherd. He’s trained you well. Sit. Stay.” Matt pressed so hard with his foot that Scott thought he heard his collar bone snap. “ _Heel._ Why do you think he gets mad when you don’t spend all of your time with him? Why do you think he was jealous of Allison? Why was he jealous of Isaac? Why do you think he’s furious whenever you don’t listen to him, by which he means, when you don’t do as you’re told or have the nerve to have your own ideas? He _owns_ you.” Matt released him and Scott took a breath out of habit. “And naughty puppies don’t get any treats.”

“That’s … that’s not true.” Talking was hard with the weight on his chest. 

“Please. He walks around thinking –- and telling people -- you’re stupid. He claims you’d have never survived without him. He makes fun of you. He jokes about things that are important to you. Why do you think he does that? Because it’s his way of showing how much _he loves you?_ ” Matt bobbed his head back and forth with a grimace, exaggerating his voice to show how silly Scott was being. “It’s his way of showing dominance. He’s bopping you on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.”

Scott found strength from somewhere. He couldn’t tell from where, but he managed to push Matt’s foot off his chest. He flopped like a fish over and started to crawl his way towards the Nemeton. He didn’t know why he was going toward it, but he could feel he was leaving a trail of blood behind him. 

“You don’t believe me.” Matt walked next to him as Scott pulled himself along the floor.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then why,” Matt inquired, bending down so his mouth was near Scott’s ear, “did he not tell you about Donovan? Why did you have to drag it out of him? Did he think you wouldn’t forgive him? You let Peter hang around, you forgave Derek for trying to kill Lydia, the twins for killing Boyd, Meredith for starting the Dead Pool, and Deucalion for killing … everybody, really.”

Scott got his hands on one of the roots of the tree. Another bank of lights went out. The Nemeton was now an island of light in the middle of a sea of darkness. “Why are you doing this?”

“You’re repeating yourself. It happens as the brain starts to lose coherency. Why do you think I’m doing this? For the same reason he said that all of us can’t be True Alphas! Even though you never once rubbed that it in his face.” 

Scott couldn’t even make claws, so he had to pull himself along the roots with his human fingernails.

“Why he said that some of you had to make mistakes.”

Scott saw himself lying in a darkened high school, yelling at Allison at the rave, shouting at his father, biting Liam. He could do this. He could reach the stump.

“Why he said that some of you had to get your hands dirty.”

Scott saw the black goo pour from Gerard, the blood pour from Jennifer’s neck, the mercenary hunter bleeding from his claws, Allison’s hand fall to the ground.

“Some of us are huuuuuuumaaaaaaaaan.”

Scott roared, remembering all the time that his body had changed its shape, how bones and flesh had torn itself apart and forced themselves back together. How Allison had covered her mouth in horror, how his mother had looked at him in terror and revulsion. Stiles had had the nerve to say that; Stiles had said that when the truth was it was Stiles' goddamn fault. Scott wasn’t human because that fucker had dragged him to see a body in the woods. 

It was clear now. Scott rested his head on the top of the Nemeton. He couldn’t move anymore. “You’re trying to make me angry.”

“Are you angry, Scott?” 

He was angry. His blood was pumping through his veins like molten steel. “Why not bring up Theo?”

“Theo doesn’t make you angry. Theo makes you sad, and we don’t need sadness now, do we?”

Matt was right. Theo didn’t make him angry. Theo had given him what he needed, and he had taken it, even if it had been poisoned. But that wasn’t Theo’s fault. Theo was just a slave of the Doctors.

“Who are you? You’re not Matt. Matt doesn’t need anything. He’s dead. Why look like him?”

Whatever was pretended to be Matt pulled him up. To his feet. “Because you two have ended up the same. When the lights go out in this place, you’ll be gone. You’ll have died alone, and no one will care, just like they didn’t care about Matt. Everyone forgot him within a week. Maybe they’ll cry a little bit for you; maybe they’ll talk about how brave you were. Maybe it’ll take a longer for them to forget about you, maybe it'll take a whole month. All your virtue and heroism, and you’ll end up no different than he did. Food for worms.”

“I’m not him.” 

“No. You’re not. But when this room is completely dark, to whom will that actually matter?” 

Scott felt more rage surge through his veins, but something the fake Matt said made him remember. He had read something about darkened rooms in English class. He whispered. “Death opens a door …”

“Even a door you slammed shut.” 

Matt’s form twisted, flattened, and his details vanished. He went … two-dimensional. As he spoke, his voice stopped sounding like Matt and started sounding like his own. It became darkness, his darkness. 

“We need you angry. It’s the only way to save us. Pain makes you human, but the monster makes you strong. Strong enough to start your heart again. But you have to feel the rage you have for what Liam did to you, for Stiles’ lies and treachery, for your shitty mother who sends you out to die again and again and again, and above all for the rage you have against yourself. Because in the end, the only way these people beat on you and use you is because you let them.”

The thing that once was Matt was not complete flat and completely dark, lying on the ground in front of him, an enormous shadow in a room that had never seen a shadow. Tall, hulking and lupine, with claws flexing back and forth. Behind Scott, the Nemeton pulsed with power, but Scott didn’t really need it. It had only shown him the strength that was in his own heart. 

He could still let it end. The lights were still going off. He just had to stand here and wait, and all the pain would be over. 

He didn’t want it to be over. He had become a true alpha by the force of his own will. No one had believed in him, no one but Deaton. Peter thought he was his minion, Stiles though he was his puppy dog, his pack though he was an idiot, his mother thought he was a monster, and Liam thought he was expendable. Like every bad guy he had ever defeated, everyone thought he was worthless until he showed them he wasn't. 

“I can’t show them if I’m dead.”

He cracked the White Room open with his roar; the Nemeton resonated with it. It would serve him now, as it should have had from the beginning. 

He was awake. He surged to his feet. He could feel the wounds in his chest close. He was forcing them to. 

A gasp told him that he wasn’t alone. Mason hadn’t gone home. He had been kneeling down beside, tears on his face. Scott softened for a moment, but then he shook his head. He remember that Mason was probably here for Liam. 

“You’re alive.”

Scott grunted as he looked around the room. Mason could be useful. He was smart, and he was loyal. When Scott brought Liam back into line, he’d be there as well.

Mason smelled a little frightened. “Are you okay? You look … different.”

Scott looked at his hand. His skin was darker, his claws more pronounced. He was in his alpha form – his real alpha form. He’d taken it without even realizing it, just like the last time he had taken it, at the Argent factory. It would be useful for dealing with Theo and the Doctors. 

“I _am_ different. Get up. We have work to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am very harsh on Melissa in this fiction, because nothing makes me angrier than her speech in _Status Asthmaticus_ , where she tells her half-dead son what he owes other people.
> 
> Yes, I know the meme from American Horror Story appeared in 2013, and this episode would have happened in October of 2012, but someone suggested that I ignore the chronology as much as Teen Wolf does.
> 
> I welcome all constructive criticism, and I know that the events described are controversial. All that I ask is that you keep it polite.


End file.
